


Nightmare

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Life After the Almost End of Everything [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 08:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: A night doesn't go smoothly
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Life After the Almost End of Everything [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550209
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some more angst, cause I can't stop myself. Can be read stand alone, but also continues my previous works, starting with Don't Forget.

Something was wrong. Crowley was aware of that immediately, even as all his other senses remained blurred and dull. It took him a few, long tries before he managed to peel open his too dry eyes, and what he saw when he did, did not inspire confidence.  
Some kind of empty, decrepit warehouse, he guessed, based on the broken windows higher up, the remnants of crates and empty shelves. He tried to take a step, only then realizing what should have been obvious from the start, had his mind been working right. He was chained. There was a manacle around each wrist, attatched to the wall behind him, made of cold iron that burned his skin, and a matching set on his ankles, immobilizing him completely.  
He scowled, snapping his fingers once, expecting the shackles to open so he could get out of here, then discover who had done this and possibly kill them. But to his surprise and growing fear, nothing happened. He tried again, frowning now, to the same response.  
“Those tricks of yours won’t work. I engraved those myself. Fine work, if I can sing my own praises for a moment. Not only does it stop any miracles or magic you may try, but it also drains your power. So if you do manage to get out before I’m through with you, you’ll be weak as a kitten.” He froze at that voice, the sharp sound of something metal scraped against stone, shaking his head.  
“no. this isn’t real.” He whispered to himself, trying to convince himself it was true. If he could make himself believe it, then the nightmare would end and he would wake up in bed next to Aziraphale, who would coddle him and tell him everything was fine.  
“If only that were true. Too bad your angel can’t help you now.” Crowley snarled, fighting against the manacles, which only burned deeper into his skin. He could see the etching in them, now that he was looking for it, rather complex glyphs.  
“What have you done to him? If you’ve hurt him I swear-“ The voice chuckled, finally coming into view.  
“So cute, trying to be threatening. Relax, I haven’t done anything to him. I’ve simply shielded this location from his senses. It’s like you simply vanished into oblivion. Couldn’t risk him meddling in this, after last time.” Those violet eyes gleamed, the sly smile twisting his face as he came closer, running a knife along Crowley’s jawline.  
“You think he can’t see through your little hoodoo? Please. You’re nothing anymore, Gabe. I mean, I was at least a department head down there, and you’re, what, the coffee boy?” Crowley replied scathingly, watching storm clouds gather in Gabriel’s eyes.  
“I’ve waited a long time for this.” He hissed, walking three feet down the length of the wall from Crowley, before slamming the dagger into the wall so hard it implanted itself deep in the stone.  
But that wasn’t the only thing it hit. Crowley held back a scream as the dagger punctured his wing, pinning it to the wall. It was lodged between two bones, the ulna and radius, and grated against them as his wing spasmed, trying to free itself. He felt another jolt of pain as a dagger pinned the tip of his wing as well, immobilizing it.  
“Handy, isn’t it? Our wings exist on a different physical plain than us, when we’re in human form. But it’s easy to see them, interact with them, if you know where to look.” Gabriel grinned, and Crowley bit his lip so hard it bled as he pinned his left wing in the same way as his right. He refused to scream, refused to cry. Gabriel ran his hands along the fringes, taking in their speckled, starling like appearance with obvious distaste.  
“You need to pin me up like a bug to be able to take me, Gabe? Too afraid to face me in a fair fight? Oh, that’s right, I already kicked your ass.” Crowley spat, voice holding steady.  
“You can taunt and laugh all you want, little brother, but nothing changes the fact that you are all mine now.” Crowley gasped as Gabriel grabbed a handful of his primaries, and pulled, ripping them out, his vision going white for a moment as his wings instinctually tried to flap, pulling the daggers deeper into his flesh, widening and opening the wounds they had begun to form.  
Crowley shakily drew in breath, head hanging low as he tried to compose himself. There was a way out of this, there had to be a way out of this, this wasn’t real-  
His thoughts were interrupted by a burning sweep of electric heat that seemed to scorch through him as he spasmed again. Dimly, he realized that Gabriel had grabbed his right wing and snapped the bone halfway between his shoulder and the tip. He could feel the disjointedness of it, the fire racing through him at every jolt.  
“Hmm that was fun. But let’s try something else. You’re part demonic, part angelic at the moment, correct?” He didn’t wait for an answer, or expect one, and Crowley merely glared up at him with hate filled eyes. “So what happens if we add a little holy water to the mix?”  
With that he pulled out a spray bottle and pulled the trigger, misting his body with small droplets of holy water. It was enough that any true demon would be dissolving on the floor, but that’s not what Crowley was anymore. He was a mix.  
He did scream, this time, when the water finally took effect. It started as a low burning, but it spread, his skin blistering, bubbling, burning, until it was peeling away, leaving red, raw flesh exposed. It burned, hotter than any fire, hotter than hell, hotter than the Bentley on fire on the M25, scorching his blood.  
“Not so brave now, are we?” Gabriel taunted. Crowley spit.  
“Fuck… off…” He panted, shaking. He wheezed as Gabriel punched him in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs and sending a wave of naseau through him as he broke blisters, which now oozed blood.  
“Don’t disrespect me again, Raphael.” He spat his angel name, pulling another handful of feathers from his left wing, before taking another dagger and stabbing.  
He didn’t stop. Crowley tried to count how many, at first, but the sharp jolt of adrenaline and ice every time the blade punctured him made it hard to focus. At first he kept his mouth firmly shut against sound, but it seemed to go on for eternity. He found himself drifting in and out for only a few seconds at a time, a strange coldness trickling through his feathers. He thought it was rain, at first, before realizing it was his own blood. By the time Gabriel moved to his chest, he was already unable to keep the tears from dripping down his face.  
Still, he refused to say anything, refused to break down for him, refused to beg or plead or cower. Carelessly, Gabriel ran his blade over Crowley’s flesh, tracing the scar left from his claw marks, droplets of blood dripping from it as he cut it back open.  
“I wasn’t quite honest earlier, when I said I hadn’t done anything to Aziraphale.” Crowley didn’t react. He couldn’t. His mind was numb, his every breath was agony. His wings twitched lamely, overriding his brain with sensations it couldn’t comprehend until it didn’t know whether he was freezing or burning, and made him switch suddenly between the two. He was exhausted and would have collapsed ages ago, had it not been for the shackles holding him up, draining him even now of any energy he had left.  
“I did do one thing. It hasn’t hurt him, of course. Not yet. I’ll leave the two of you to talk it out.” With a snap, Gabriel vanished. Crowley heard footsteps approaching across the floor. Having barely registered Gabriel’s words, he was surprised to meet familiar blue eyes.  
“angel?” Aziraphale didn’t respond, instead moving mechanically towards him, eyes devoid of any thought or recognition.  
“You thought, you honestly thought, I could love you? Please. You are nothing, not even a worm I’d save from a rainstorm. I should have let you die, I should have killed you myself.” He took another step closer, Crowley’s pleading eyes locked on his unseeing ones.  
“Isn’t real, isn’t real, isn’t real, come on you idiot, wake up, wake up!” Crowley muttered, starting to panic as Aziraphale drew his holy sword, standing firmly in front of him now. “This isn’t you, love.” He whispered.  
“For our lord.” With that the blade came down and unrelenting agony washed over Crowley as first one wing was severed, then the other. He gasped for breath, tears streaming down his face as he writhed against the chains, dimly realizing the warehouse was echoing with his guttural, animal scream. He fell into a heap as the shackles suddenly vanished, a pathetic lump on the floor, barely able to keep breathing, to keep his eyes open. He was curled tight in a ball, unable to summon the strength to move, barely to breathe.  
“Crowley? Oh lord, oh no, oh dear, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s hands were on him, eyes horrified as he looked at the wings still pinned in place to the wall, to the bloody mess that was Crowley.  
Only Crowley saw Gabriel’s blade glinting behind the angel who fussed over him, saw it swing down, saw blood spurt and a head roll, lifeless blue eyes still fixed on him, before the blade plunged into his own heart-

He shot up, half screaming half sobbing, fighting off the blankets tangled around him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and gasping for air, seemingly unable to get enough into his desperate lungs. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, trying to still his shaking, to keep his teeth from chattering. He took a shuddering breath, nearly doubling over as he fought back the swell of overwhelming emotions that swarmed though him, threatening to make him ill.  
“it wasn’t real, you know it wasn’t real, you knew it wasn’t real, it’s fine, everything’s fine, everything’s fine.” He whispered, voice shaky and uncertain. He flinched at the hand on his shoulder, hunching further into himself. The false memory of never felt pain was still near the surface, making him feel light headed and airy, his body aching from phantom wounds. Irrationally he spread his wings, barely hearing the yelp from behind him.  
He curved them around the front of himself, staring at the perfectly groomed feathers, the straight, strong bones, the untouched, unbroken skin. He reached out and brushed his fingertips against the primaries, just to make sure they were really there, before breaking down completely. He tried to stand, to get outside, get some air, but barely managed a step before his shaking legs gave out from under him and he fell to the floor, wings still spread limply behind him. A thought and he was outside, grass under his knees, the stars above him, the moon shining, the sweat scent of wildflowers filling the night air. His head was pressed to the cool, dewy, ground, as he tried desperately to get the images out of his head.  
Then there was warmth wrapped around him, solid hands caressing his hair, rubbing his back, holding him firmly but gently as Crowley grabbed onto him for dear life, clutching his shirt and pressing his head against the angel’s chest, breath coming in shuddering gasps.  
“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here, dearest. It’s alright. I’m here.” Aziraphale murmured gently, pressing his lips against Crowley’s forehead, wishing he could absorb some of his pain, some of his fear. Instead he rocked him, held him close, kept talking softly to him.  
“wasn’t real, wasn’t real, wasn’t real, wasn’t real…” Crowley was repeating, over and over, eyes squeezed shut, trying to contain the tremors running through him. He felt something soft brush against him, fighting off the chill that seemed to have seeped into his bones, that had him shaking like a leaf, that had his teeth chattering.  
“Dearest, darling dearest, I have you. I have you, dear. I’ve got you.” Crowley finally looked up, realizing the softness he was feeling was Aziraphale’s feathers wrapped around the two of them. Shakily, Crowley released his death grip on Aziraphale’s pajama top. He reached up and placed a hand against Aziraphale’s cheek. The angel rested his hand atop Crowley’s, before pressing it to his lips once.  
“Are you alright, my dear?” Crowley let out a sharp breath, shaking his head no as his eyes roved over Aziraphale’s face. He reached out and tentatively stroked his wing, before wrapping his arms tight around him, head on his angel’s shoulder as he shook with silent tears.  
“Oh Crowley.” His voice was soft as he held the demon’s head, rubbing circles against his back. “What was it?”  
“gabriel had… he… you were…” Crowley took a breath. “He had me, pinned my wings, tore some feathers, broke some bones, threw around some holy water, had you… cut them off. Then… well. You can guess.” Crowley said it all in a rush, his words bleeding together, and he felt Ziri hold him a little tighter.  
“I thought it wasn’t real. I thought it was a dream. But usually once I realize that I wake up, I can snap myself out of it, I can change it… but I couldn’t… I told myself it was a dream but I couldn’t stop it, so I thought… thought it was real. Thought it had to be real.” Crowley explained, pulling himself together somewhat, managing to return his breathing almost to normal, though he still trembled slightly, still unwilling to let go of Aziraphale, to move from his embrace.  
“It’s ok, dearest. It’s ok.” Aziraphale murmured, kissing the top of Crowley’s head, feeling the demon start to relax, some of the tension start to drain away. “everything’s alright.”  
“m’sorry I woke you. Drug you outside.” Crowley replied, voice barely a whisper. “needed air, needed… needed to see that it was all still here.”  
“Don’t be sorry, darling. I’d rather you wake me, rather you do what you need to, to calm down, than suffer in silence.” There was a pause, where Aziraphale kissed his forehead, then drew back, looking into his eyes. “Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit chilly out here, and I know you don’t like the cold. Do you want to go back to sleep?” Crowley bit his lip.  
“Inside… yeah, that’s good, yeah. Sleep… not yet. I… could you read? For a bit?” Aziraphale smiled, getting to his feet and helping Crowley up, miracling them back into their bedroom.  
“Of course, dear.” He grabbed the book from his bedside table and turned on the lamp, putting on his reading glasses as he propped himself up against the head board. Crowley, however seemed unable to stay still. He paced, and when he finally did sit down on the bed he seemed unable to stop fidgeting, until Aziraphale gently closed the book and put it aside.  
“Crowley. Come here.” He held his arms open, and Crowley immediately obliged, curling into his arms. Aziraphale took his hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart.  
“You feel that?” Crowley nodded. “That is my heart. Beating. Just as it should. And you feel this?” He raised the demon’s hand to his nose. “That is me breathing, perfectly fine. And this”, he kissed Crowley’s hand, gentle blue eyes meeting gold. “This is me promising that all of this is real, that I love you, that no one will ever hurt you like that, ever. I won’t allow it. Ok?” He asked, cupping Crowley’s face, tilting it up to his.  
“Ok.” He breathed out, small and fragile, but filled with relief, belief. Aziraphale leaned down and kissed him, resting his forehead against Crowley’s.  
“Good. Now just remember that, when you fall asleep. Remember you can feel my heart beat, feel me breathing, feel my love, and you’ll know that you’re safe.” He could feel Crowley drifting off despite himself, no doubt having expended more energy in his dream than recovering any, and he stroked the demon’s hair, feeling him curl tighter against him. “And I will be right here when you wake, darling. I promise.” He smiled, content to watch Crowley sleep, to make sure he got the rest he deserved, unburdened by nightmares.


End file.
